


One jacket less

by Depressedloaf



Series: One jacket less [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk Sex, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied future Sakuatsu, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It Gets Better, Panic Attacks, Rape Aftermath, Sad Miya Atsumu, Vomiting, also, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressedloaf/pseuds/Depressedloaf
Summary: He really did feel like he had been physically manhandled and thrown into a burning pile of garbage,  left to burn to a crisp, because his limbs were heavier than they were after a full five set game, and his brain was barely functioning, and the only thing he could think of was the way his body was still convulsing trying desperately to get rid of the feeling that had created a permanent home for itself in his gut.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Series: One jacket less [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158818
Comments: 5
Kudos: 111





	One jacket less

The blanket crinkled as he moved his body from its previous position laying on the bed. He had cried and the stains of water were still visible on the navy blue pillowcase, but he could not even bring himself to do that anymore, the mental exhaustion made him limp and heavy and he just wanted to go to sleep and ultimately forget about the evening. 

It had been stupid really, he should have never gone out at all. Everything could have been perfectly avoided if he just used his brain for once. If he had just made one rational decision and decided that no, it was perhaps not a good idea to get absolutely shitfaced and then to go home with someone he could not even remember the face of, much less their name. 

Sure it had started out as simple fun, he liked being slightly intoxicated and he enjoyed the vibrant atmosphere that occupied the humid interior of the bar. He could recollect that the tapestry on the walls had begun to peel at the edges, and that stains of undefinable origin had made themselves known by the dark contrast they created against the otherwise pale colour of the walls. Thinking about it made bile rise rapidly in his throat and he rushed into the bathroom and fell onto his shaking knees and heaved even though nothing would come up. His body had made sure to expel all of the contents of his stomach immediately when he arrived back home. It was by sheer luck that he had not accidentally painted the backside of the seat in front of him with an untasteful mixture of beer and bar snacks on the bus ride back here. 

His hands clutched the white porcelain as tightly as he could as he just surrounded to whatever the fuck his body was doing right now. He kind of wanted to cry but he also wanted to be graced by a firm hit to his skull that would knock him out for good. 

When he had gone out it had been with some of his teammates. They had drunk together and laughed together, and then drunk some more. Bokuto had made some stupid joke about why the alphabet was in alphabetical order, and for some reason he had found it hilarious. Other than that though he did not remember much, just blurry images of bodies moving haphazardly over the dirty dance floor, sweaty but happy people moving around him, bumping into him and that someone accidentally poured their drink all over his white shirt and that they had begun apologizing profusely. And that was the reason that his room smelled sharply of cheap beer as the shirt he had worn lay limply on his dark floor. 

Fuck. He would literally be willing to do next to anything if that meant that he could go back in time to force himself to walk out of that bar at that moment. But obviously he had not, because if he had, then he would not be hunched over his toilet seat right now, feeling completely naked and used. 

He really did feel like he had been physically manhandled and thrown into a burning pile of garbage, left to burn to a crisp. Because his limbs were heavier than they were after a full five set game, and his brain was barely functioning, and the only thing he could think of was the way his body was still convulsing, trying desperately to get rid of the feeling that had created a permanent home for itself in his gut. 

He did not know what happened after that, but the others must have gone home or gone to another bar, because the last memory he had he was dancing with some random girl who was smearing her hands over him, leaving burning traces on his skin. He had not disliked the attention at that point, it was pleasant and it made him feel a sweet warmth pool in the pit of his stomach. Denying that he did would just be a blatant and badly put together lie. He had liked it, and he guessed that that was the reason that he had walked out of that bar with her. 

After that he could vaguely remember the feeling of frigid february air washing over his lightly dressed body, but the warmth of the alcohol that was still very much present in his system, and the warm body that draped itself over him had prevented him from noticing it, which was also why he was now the owner of one less jacket. 

He rose to his feet again and wobbled away back into the absolute mess that was his bedroom. The clothes that he had worn during the night were thrown carelessly in the general direction of his hamper, and a pile of books still lay messily on the floor, after having knocked them over when he first returned to his apartment. 

He crawled into the bed and threw the blanket over his mostly naked body, with the sole exception of the pair of freshly cleaned underwear that he had put on after finishing showering. He hid beneath the warmth that really should be more comfortable than it was. Instead of comfortable it felt suffocating. He did not want to remember any more than he did, but the human brain was a mysterious and merciless thing, and pictures played beneath his eyelids even when he forcibly pushed the heels of his hands into them. 

The room. Her room. It was clean from what he saw, and it smelt of lavender. Awful. It smelt awful. He had sat down on her bed hesitatingly, because at this point his brain had begun catching onto what was going on and where this was probably going. He had tried to excuse himself clumsily, slurring slightly, but she had only laughed and sat herself on his lap and kissed him. Her lips had tasted like something artificial, something that should probably taste sweet, but that only tasted bitter. 

He had tried to push her off of himself, but she had not relented and sooner rather than later he had been laying flat on his back, the fabric of the bed sheets soft against his back. He had not wanted that. But he had not wanted to forcibly shove her off or raise his voice either, because sometimes he really was unreasonably scared of confrontation. So he had just endured it, thinking that it would be over quickly. But it was like time had stilled and everything happened as if in slow motion, every touch feeling like it carved into him like a butcher knife, and every sound like nails scraping against the surface of a blackboard. 

He could remember the way she had positioned herself between his legs and took him into her mouth, moving sloppily and messily up and down his length probably thinking that he enjoyed it judging from the way he had moaned. And to know that he had done that, made those noises even when he wanted to get away from there made him feel more disgusting than anything else. Because he had not wanted that, but his body reacted on its own intuition, without his consent. 

He did not know if he could blame her though. Both of them had been drunk and it was not like he had actually said anything about the thought that had echoes inside his skull as it happened either. He was almost certain that she just thought they were having fun, and it was not like she had forcibly held him down, so more than anything he blamed himself, and hated himself. 

At some point he had started to faze out though, because he really did not remember much else before he was already out of the building and sitting on an empty bus on his way home.  
As soon as he had closed and locked the door behind him he had walked right into the bathroom, even though he was still wearing his offwhite and unlaced shoes and puked his guts out. After that he had undressed and stepped into the shower, thinking, or at least hoping, that the hot stream of water washing over him would make him feel cleaner than he did, but it had the opposite effect. Instead he had become more lucid than he had been during the past few hours, and it hit him that that had been illegal. That was rape. 

He washed himself over and over again, scrubbing at his skin to make the crawling feeling underneath his skin disappear, but it did not. At some point he had started crying, but he did not notice it until he had turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, when the waterflow did not hide it any longer. 

And after that he had walked into the bedroom, which is why he found himself where he was now. Laying apathetically in his bed that is. His phone had buzzed a few times since he came back home, but he did not want to unlock it to see who it was that had texted him. He feared that they would ask him something that he did not want to answer, like if he had gotten home safely, or even worse who he left with. He did not know if they knew that he had left with anyone though, but assuming the worst he did not want to be reminded of it further. 

He would get over it though. It was not that bad really. People had experienced worse, and he had been okay with it at first so really perhaps it did not even count as something as grave as rape? And by the way, he was a guy, and guys do not get raped. At least not by girls. At least that was what most people would say, and perhaps it was true. 

****

He awoke to the shrill sound of his alarm going off, and reached out with his arm to turn it off. Being once again enveloped in silence he stared up at the ceiling. It was not much to see there, it was just a white ceiling with no cracks or visible stains which made it even less interesting to look at. 

He really should get up and go about his days but as soon as his consciousness was recovered, he did not want to do anything. It was like he was swallowed up by a dark hole, in which the only thing he could feel was gross and weak. He wanted to be left alone, which felt off because he usually did not. He liked being surrounded by people and being at the centre of attention. But right now, he did not think he could bear anyone looking at him right now, because everyone and anyone would absolutely see right through him and know exactly what had happened. And he did not want that. At all. 

There was nothing worse than people pitying him, sending him condoling glances and looking at him like he was a victim. Like he was not a whole grown man but a small infant that could not depend on himself to survive.

It was irrational he knew, logically speaking it would be best to speak to someone. But it was a fresh wound and the area around it was still screaming red, and he did not want someone poking at it. It was too soon. Of course it was, it happened fucking yesterday, and not even he himself had really processed it. He was just caught up in his head, mental pictures floating around and becoming frighteningly vivid every time that he closed his eyes, even if it was just for a short while. 

But thankfully, or not, his body was so accustomed to his regular schedule that he pulled himself up from the bed anyways and walked into the shower. His skin was still dry due to all the showering he had done yesterday, but he felt that he needed to or else he would feel even less of a being than he did now. 

When he had finished showering he looked himself in the mirror as he toweled himself off, and the sight that greeted him was like a slap to the face. All the way from his chest up to the side of his neck was littered in blooming bruises. The colour was striking against his pale skin, and the hickies would be impossible to hide. The sight made him sick and he feared that he would barf up nothing again. And that was not ideal considering that his stomach was screaming at him, begging him to eat something, anything but he could not. His appetite had successfully reached rock bottom and if he actually did attempt to eat something then it would absolutely, with a one hundred percent certainty come right back up. 

So he got dressed and walked out of the apartment, ignoring the need for food and made his way to the arena for practice. In all honesty going to practice was perhaps not the best idea. He felt physically sick even if there was nothing actually wrong with him, and he knew for a fact that the bags underneath his eyes were as bad as they could get, so he did not look good either. But it did not matter when his body moved on autopilot and made its way over there no matter his personal input. And he loved volleyball, no matter what he did not want to miss out on any opportunities to play. 

The walk to the arena was usually a very pleasant thing. It felt nice to start his days with walking down the streets of Osaka, and even the city air that smelled like stage four lung cancer was nice. But today he did not even notice it. The faces of the people he passed by blurred together into a monotone and bleak puree. At one point he narrowly avoided walking right into a stressed man, carrying a business bag. He just mumbled out a half assed apology when the man yelled at him to watch where he was going before he continued walking, and soon enough he was standing on the rough carpet right inside the arena’s entrance. 

Almost immediately he had his hands full with an overexcited Bokuto and an equally optimistic Hinata, and neither of them looked like they had been drinking buckets the day before. Which was honestly unfair. 

“Tsumu Tsumu, looks like you had fun yesterday huh?” Bokuto said with a loud laugh as he slapped him energetically on the back, and Atsumu subconsciously shot a hand up to cover the bruises on his neck, even though they had already been spotted. He started to feel sick again, but forced himself to squeeze out an impish laugh.

“Haha yeah.” No he had not.

“Yeah sorry that we left Atsumu-san, but you seemed like you were having fun with that girl.” Hinata said with a blinding smile.

“Did you get her number?” Bokuto wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“‘Course I did, who wouldn’t want my number?” He tried to fall into his usual demeanor but it was a fight when all he really wanted was to get back home and occupy a permanent position in his bed. Neither of them seemed to notice it though, and the subject was deserted almost as soon as it had come up. Atsumu was relieved, but the comment carved itself into the bone of his ribcage and stayed there. 

Everything after that went okay, not one of his tosses went terribly amiss, and everything was under control, he even managed to momentarily forget about everything when the adrenaline pumped through his body, like it usually did when he played, but then suddenly it was like someone had flipped a switch, and then nothing was good.

He did not know who said it, but one of his teammates jokingly said something about him having gotten laid the night before when they were all standing in the locker room, and he had to rush into the bathroom, as he started dry heaving. His body was once again desperately trying to dispel anything that it could, but given that he had not bothered with eating anything for almost 15 hours now, it was like emptying a boat overflowing with water with a teaspoon. 

When the worst of it was over, he was sitting with his back pressed against the bathroom wall, forehead slick with sweat as he breathed heavily. He felt so fucking disgusting. Meian walked up to him and crouched down beside him.

“Are ya fine?” 

“Yeah, I must’ve just caught a stomach bug or somethin’.” The lie slipped out easily, and this time for once it seemed like it actually worked. 

Meian nodded, and stood up to his full height. 

“I’ll ask coach ta drive ya home.”

“Okay.”

****

He did not go to practice the day after that. And not the day after that either. But he did manage to eat something though, but that was mostly because his body was practically tearing itself apart begging him to give it something containing nutritions. Because he was still not hungry at all. 

The silence was killing him though. He was not used to being alone for this long, and he desperately wanted to hear something other than the occasional ping of his phone whenever someone would text him, asking him if he was getting better. He always told them that he was, and that he would be back at practice soon, but a very small part of his brain urged him to not go there again, which was stupid because it was his literal job. It was kind of fascinating though how someone could lose all sense of motivation so rapidly. It was like someone was draining him of his motivation juice. 

Mindlessly, he reached for his phone and unlocked it, before going to his contacts and pressing the call symbol when he found who’s contact he was searching for. Three signals went off before it picked up on the other end.

“Whaddya want?” The familiar voice hit him, and the comfort of it made the waterworks turn on with a vengeance. Perhaps he had saved up to this during the past few days when he had not been able to cry at all. So instead of answering he let out a pathetic sob. 

“‘Tsumu? Are ya ‘kay?”

“Can ya come over?” 

“Yeah sure, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Can ya stay on the line?”

“Yeah sure. What’s goin’ on though?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop tryin’, ya know ya can’t lie.” Yeah he knew, Osamu had told him so on multiple occasions so it really did not come as news.

“I don’t really wanna talk ‘bout it, just get here please.” 

****

“I’m here.” 

“Okay.” Then he cut the call. 

Earlier he had gone up to unlock his door so that when Osamu got here he would not be left to stand locked out in the corridor. Considerate, he knew. 

So no more than two seconds after cutting the call he heard the door being flung open, and after a short moment of wait that probably consisted of Osamu taking of his shoes in the genkan, he heard muffled footsteps down the corridor before his brother was standing in the bedroom door while holding an onigiri Miya bag in one hand. 

“Don’t just lay around in a dark room like this ya scrub.” 

“Hello ta ya too.”

Osamu went over to his window and pulled up the blinds, letting the sunshine pour in. The light did not do the state of his room justice, in fact it illuminated everything he wanted to hide. Every article of clothing that had missed the hamper, including the clothes from that night, underwear and leftover prepackaged food lay strewn around the room. He was not proud of it, because he was not actually a disorderly person who lived in their own dirt like this.

“Jesus are ya good?” He glared at him from his position in the bed, which in hindsight might not be the best position to be in if one is trying to be intimidating. 

“Have ya eaten?”

“Yeah.” He looked at the plastic wrappers left from when he had eaten up his supply with melon bread during the past few days. It probably did not count as a real meal though. No, correction, it definitely did not count as a real meal, and Osamu seemed to think that as well as he walked over to his bedside and put the plastic bag he was carrying in his lap. 

“Here, I brought ya food.”

“Thanks.” he was not crying any longer, but the teartracks left were still very much visible and he was fairly certain that his eyes were tinged red. 

Osamu pulled out the chair that stood by the desk situated to the right of the bed, and dragged it over the floor so that it stood beside the bed, before he sat down.

“Don’t sit there, it looks like I’m dyin’ in a hospital.”

“It looks like ya are.” 

“We have the same face ya scrub?”

“Yeah but I don’t look like I haven’t slept for three days straight.”

“Ya can go if yer gonna be an ass.” Osamu stayed where he sat. 

“Eat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” But even if he said that he did not move to actually start eating. 

“Are ya gonna spill why yer actin’ weird, or are ya just gonna stay like that?” Pain surged in Atsumu’s chest and he felt a cold hand clench around his throat, making it a little harder to breathe. 

“I don’t want ta talk ‘bout it..” 

“‘Tsumu I’m yer brother, ya do a lot of dumb shit but yer clearly not fine so just tell me.”

Atsumu looked away from Osamu as he fiddled with the plastic straps of the bag in front of him, still not having actually touched the food inside of it. He could not look at Osamu because if his teammates did not notice, then Osamu absolutely would. He already knew something was off - though anyone would probably get a hunch that something was wrong if someone called them and just started crying - but if he looked him properly in the eyes then he would probably see right through him and immediately know why, using some kind of twin telepathy. He had done it before so he had no doubt in his mind that he could do that again. 

“Come on ‘Tsumu.” He did not think he was lying but there was something so utterly humiliating to explain that something like this had happened, and he was still afraid that he would look down on him afterwards. But still he opened his mouth. 

“I went out with Bokuto and Hinata and some of the others last Friday.” He started. His voice was a little shaky, this was fucking terrifying and he did not trust himself not to start to cry again. Osamu sat silent though and waited for him to continue.

“And we,, I, drank too much. And then I met some girl and I went home with her. I did not think much about it because I was way too drunk, but then when we got there she wanted to do,, things, but I had kind of sobered up by then, and I didn’t..” He finished it quietly, and he was looking intently down at his hands resting on top of the bag. He picked at his cuticles harshly.

“What the fuck. Atsumu that’s rape.” Osamu sounded both shocked and murderously furious and Atsumu still looked away from him shrinking in on himself even if Osamu’s anger was not directed towards him. 

“Ya hafta report her.”

“I don’t even know who it was, and it was not that big of a deal anyways.”

“Are ya fuckin’ stupid? What d’ya mean not big of a deal, she fuckin’ raped ya!”

Atsumu felt tears well up in his eyes again, and he wiped at them furiously but still they did not stop. 

“Atsumu look at me.” He did, kind of, but he still avoided looking him in the eyes, and it was a little hard to see anything through the tears that clouded his vision. But he could still see the way that Osamu was slightly shaking and clenching his hands into tight fists. 

“Ya know this isn’t yer fault right?”

“But I didn’t say anythin’ ‘bout it.”

“It doesn’t matter, if ya didn’t want it then ya didn’t.” Sometimes, no most times, he really really loved having Osamu as a brother. 

“I feel fuckin’ disgustin’.”

“Yer not. Don’t say things like that.” He started crying even harder and Osamu stood up from the chair and sat down beside him on the bed instead before leaning down to hug him.

“I’m gonna murder yer teammates.”

Atsumu let out a wet laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Don’t, it’s not their fault.”

“Fine. But yer gonna eat and then we can talk more if ya want. Ya look like ya haven’t eaten anythin’ decent in days.” 

“I’ve eaten.”

“Prepackaged shit food doesn’t count.”

****

“I think ya should go ta therapy.”

“No way. I don’t need it. It wasn’t like I was hurt or anythin’..” 

“Sure ya say that, but it might be good ta speak to someone.”

“I don’t wanna.” 

They had moved from his bedroom to his miniscule kitchen, and were sitting around the round table that had been squeezed in, in there, and which had occupied the same spot since he moved into the apartment two years ago. It had seen better days and the notches in its surface and the colour that had partly given up on sticking to its surface made him want to get it changed every other day. 

He had finished eating a while back, and this was the first time in days that he had not felt the need to puke immediately afterwards. He had never felt so happy just by eating a simple onigiri, even if he still did not really want to eat anything but the demon that had been screeching from inside his stomach for the past few days seemed satisfied. 

“Stop bein’ so stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn, it's just a waste, there are people that need it more and that have experienced worse things.”

“Ya /are/ and stop puttin’ yerself down like that.”

“I’m just honest though.” Osamu sighed. 

“Just think ‘bout it ‘kay?”

“Fine I’ll think ‘bout it.”

“Y’know I love ya.” Osamu said it seriously as he looked at him. He did know.

****

He went back to practice after that. It felt nice to get back to the usual routine, and as the hickies faded away it felt like he could put some of it behind him. Not entirely though. Whenever he was asked to go to some bar he usually declined, and if he did go then he did not touch anything that contained alcohol. He feared that he would experience something like that again if he did, so he slowly became the designated driver by default. It was not a bad role to play though even if his teammates while drunk were a handful he still liked being able to be with them without being vulnerable.

Everything was going better than expected, and he thought he had gotten over it, and that it had no control over him anymore until that was not true. The entire team went out one night to go drinks, and when he was sitting by their table alone with Sakusa and a totally wasted Hinata as the others had gone over to the bar to order drinks, someone came up to their table.

“Hi! It’s been awhile!” It was a woman with chin length auburn hair, and dark almond shaped eyes who was hovering over him. He swiftly looked behind himself to see if she was talking to someone else, but no one was sitting behind him or seemed to react to the woman’s presence so he assumed that she talked to him. He did not understand why though, or why she greeted him so familiarly, because he could not for the life of him figure out where he had met her before. 

“Sorry, do we know each other?” He asked a little confused and apologetic because was he a giant dick for not knowing who she was right now?

“Well I guess we didn’t really get to introduce ourselves when we met at the other place downtown, I’m Akari. And again I’m so sorry for spilling my drink on you.” Her voice was chipper and sweet, and her lips glistened with some kind of tinted lip-gloss. Then it clicked. It was that woman from that night. It was like someone had poured a cold bucket of water over his head and now he was left standing outside in a snow blizzard, making him freeze over entirely. He could see her lips moving but he could not hear what she said, it was like he had stuffed his ear canals with thick cotton, and the entire room was spinning rapidly. He felt like he was just about to puke, so he stood up and excused himself stiffly before walking over to the bathroom. 

This was not happening. Why did he have to meet her again? He rushed into a bathroom stall and fumbled with the lock before being sure that the door was really latched, and then he leaned over the toilet in case he would actually throw up. 

It felt like he could not breath and whenever he tried to inhale it felt like someone had placed a ton of bricks over his chest, crushing his lungs and making them practically useless under the pressure of it. He did not know for how long he stood there until he heard a dull knock on the door. 

“It’s taken.” He managed to squeeze out, hoping that that person would just walk away and leave him alone. 

“Miya it’s me.” Sakusa. He felt pitiful in this state and he kind of wanted him to go away as well.

“Go. Please.”

“Unlock the door, you should go outside.” It did not sound like a question and it probably was not, but it sounded soft which was weird, because this was Sakusa. He was the rudest person on the team, and he had no problems at all telling him what a stupid idiot he was whenever he did something particularily dumb. So yes, him sounding slightly concerned did feel alien, and he was not sure if this was just his imagination making things up. 

But considering his options it would still be for the best to speak now, because otherwise Sakusa might walk right out of this filthy public restroom and he would stand here alone hyperventilating like his lungs had cramped up. And if it were just his imagination then talking to himself in a bathroom stall was at least nothing weird considering he could be totally black out drunk for all that random restroom users knew. 

“I,, can’t breathe.”

“Yes you can, but it would probably be better if you get outside.” Atsumu swallowed thickly.

“Is sh,e out there?”

“I told her to go, so no, probably not.” He inhaled harshly a few times before turning towards the door, and unlatching the lock with trembling fingers. On the other side of the door Sakusa stood, half of his face covered with the mask he usually wore, and his fists hidden deep within the pockets of his jacket that he still wore inside of here for some reason. But then his right hand shot out of the pocket and took hold of the edge of Atsumu’s sleeve with the help of his thumb and his index finger, and guided him out of the crowded room. He briefly wondered if Sakusa was fine with this many people being around him all at once. 

Once outside the cold air hit him in the face like a wall, and it made him stop breathing entirely for a moment, before the harsh and shallow breaths started up again. It was a wonder his body got enough oxygen at all at the moment. 

As his mind struggled to work he was pulled further away from the bar’s entrance until they were standing at the edge of the big brick building. 

“I need you to breathe with me Miya. Deep breaths.” He tried to mimic the pace that Sakusa was setting but it was hard, and every attempt was shaky and still way too fast. 

“I c,an,’t.” 

“Yes you do, you just need to calm down.” He tried, and sank down to sit down on the concrete sidewalk, which Sakusa must have found utterly disgusting because who even knew how many people had walked over that spot, and what they had walked in before walking there. It was the perfect place to get infected by some disease, like lyme disease or herpes. 

But even if it was a potential health hazard he stayed where he was, letting the coldness of the ground below seep into the fabric of his pants.He put his head between his knees, and tried to focus on the slow inhales and exhales that Sakusa was doing. After a while he felt his breathing starting to slow and the panic that had lodged itself inside his throat die down.

“Are you okay now?” He glanced at Sakusa who sat down in front of him. He had not noticed when he had sat down so the lack of distance between them surprised him a little bit. He could only nod his head numbly. Then he remembered Hinata, had he not been sitting by the table totally shitfaced before he walked into the bathroom? Did Sakusa just leave him there? That would have been a bitch move and he did not know whether that was something Sakusa would definitely do or not. 

“Hinata, is he alone?”

Sakusa raised one of his brows a little. “No, the others came back soon after you left. He’s fine.” 

“Okay.” Well that is a relief. Then he added; “Thanks.” 

“It's fine.” Sakusa said, and stood up. Atsumu did the same but now he felt absolutely fucking drained. His legs threatened to buckle underneath his weight and he wobbled around like a newborn deer on the sidewalk. He wanted to go home. He also thought that perhaps he really should consider going to a therapist, because having a full blown panic attack like this out in the middle of a street did not really seem like something sustainable in the long run. 

Did there go any busses from here to his apartment though? He had no idea but if not then he was kind of stuck here until the rest of them were going home as well, and he did not think that he would have enough energy left to step into the bar again even if he had to. Sakusa had started moving so he followed after him mindlessly. Did there go any bus from here this late? He looked at the clock on his phone’s lock screen, 01.35 am. No probably not. 

Being lost in thought he barely noticed when Sakusa walked past the entrance and continued down the road. 

“Aren’t ya goin’ back inside?”

“No, I’ll drive you home.” Relief flooded through him. 

“Thanks Omi.” Sakusa hummed in affirmation.

****

The walk over to Sakusa’s (nice) car was awkward. Or at least Atsumu thought so. Sakusa did not say anything much, and his face remained as passive and neutral as it usually did, which did not help. Because what did he think about Atsumu now? Did he think he was weak or pathetic? He had no idea, because even though they were teammates and had been that for some time now, they did not know each other super well on a personal level, because they never really hung out one-on-one. So he had no clue as to what was going around Sakusa’s head. 

So now they were sitting in Sakusa’s very nice, and very black car, as the street lights outside flashed by in a mash of dim colours while Atsumu’s mind went to shit. If he could then he would evaporate into steam and escape through the car’s ventilation system, before materializing by the side of the road and then take flight down the sidewalk to get home on his own. But sadly he could not do that, so instead he sat there in the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them, and wondered when Sakusa would drop the question that was surely resting on the tip of his tongue. That is, why he had had a fucking breakdown. It was impossible that Sakusa did not wonder why the fuck that had happened. 

But still Sakusa remained silent and Atsumu was itching to do something, ask him about it maybe, or lash out because for some reason he was slightly annoyed and bordering on exasperation due to Sakusa’s lack of questions or reaction.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” Sakusa said, clearly giving him an out, but it would most likely be nothing but a festering wound at least on Atsumu’s part if they would just pretend like this had never happened. Because there was no way that he would be able to forget about it. The fact that Sakusa of all people had successfully helped him out of a panic attack outside of a fucking bar of all places, was something that would make the whole thing a permanent addition to his memory bank for sure.

“I know that ya know that somethin’ is up, so just get it over with.”

“You clearly don’t want to talk about it.” Sakusas’ eyes did not stray off the road, and he gestured vaguely with one of his hands towards the way Atsumu was picking relentlessly at his cuticles. As if that was proof enough that he did not want to talk about it. 

He did not want to talk about it. Right now he felt more drained than he had for awhile, and explaining to Sakusa what he had experienced did not seem like something that would help soothe that exhaustion. It would probably just come like a kick to the nuts instead, and make everything a little worse. 

But if he did then at least he knew that Sakusa would not look at him with pity. The man looked like he was cut from stone that could only sometimes become something more pliant. And moments like that was few and far between and mostly consisted of the times when Sakusa would smile smugly towards him after he got a perfect no touch service ace before he did, or when Atsumu cracked a stupid joke that Sakusa actually found slightly amusing. But otherwise he was as stiff as his social skills were lacking, and he did not seem like the kind of person that would pat him on the shoulder and tell him that he was sorry while his face was contoured in sympathy. The mere mental image of it was almost enough to make Atsumu laugh a bit, that is how misplaced and wrong that felt. 

“I met that girl a while back when I was out drinking. And then I went home with her, but I was totally shitfaced so I did not think about what her inviting me over implied, I guess.” It was a very vague description of that night but he really did not want to go into deeper detail. Like going ‘Yeah y’know I went home with her, and she wanted ta fuck, but I did not, but we did anyways, so I was more or less raped Omi!’ was not a viable option for multiple reasons. 

“You slept together?”

“I ‘pose.. But I didn’t really want ta..

And then when I met her today I kind of started spiralin’.” 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m better than I was then.” He said it with a shrug because it was mostly true. 

“I’m sorry you had to experience that.” Sakusa’s voice sounded strained, like he was forcing himself not to say anything that would startle Atsumu. And when Atsumu looked up he could see the way Sakusas’ hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that all the blood escaped from the thin skin over his knuckles, making them turn deathly white. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Sakusa did not say anything else or ask him anything else either after that. He did not ask if that had been the reason he had been away from practice that time, Atsumu did not think that he needed to because he had surely figured that out himself. 

“What do you need?”

“Huh?”

“To feel better.” He sounded almost a little uncertain, but who could blame him? Being a comfortable presence really was not Sakusa’s forte, but it was still nice that he tried. 

“Aww ya care for me Omi-kun?” He said but it was a lackluster imitation of his usual chirpiness and Sakusa seems to notice that too. At least judging by the way he was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. But he still answered like he usually would.

“I’ll drop you off by the side of the road.” Atsumu laughed a little, albeit tiredly. 

“I just want ta go home.” He figured that there was no point to being dishonest now, and turned back to look out the window. 

“Okay.” 

If Sakusa noticed the tears that rolled down the soft slope of his cheeks, or the way he tried to sniffle discreetly, then he made no point of mentioning it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you have read this work, then I really hope that you liked it! :D 
> 
> If not then you are free to leave a comment with constructive criticisms if you want, but please don't be rude bc I am already emotionally unstable enough as it is lol
> 
> follow me on Twitter if you want, my username is @depressedloaf on there as well


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